


venus

by cosmoscrow



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Khrumbul Dun Spoilers, Relationship Hints, So Much Friendship, Spoilers, barely, hint hint so many of em, i adore Babs and this fic definitely shows it, idk man its just Malroth contemplating love, just a pinch, listen all im saying is that Babs and Mal are definitely friends you cannot change my mind, very very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmoscrow/pseuds/cosmoscrow
Summary: [Venus, the roman goddess of love, beauty and desire.]Love is complex. Love is simple. Love is gentle. Love is a storm.Frankly, Love sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, but Malroth has always been fond of unnecessary dangers.or; in which Malroth tries to understand the concept of love, opens his eyes and yet still remains blind.
Relationships: Babs & Builder (Dragon Quest Builders 2), Babs & Malroth (Dragon Quest Builders 2), Builder & Malroth (Dragon Quest Builders 2)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	venus

**Author's Note:**

> i've been sitting on this for ages now im finally done lmao im so tired
> 
> anyway; i love this game and all the characters they are so great i love them so much
> 
> hope you enjoy!

* * *

Malroth doesn’t understand love. 

In fact, he doesn’t understand a lot of things, but for some reason, the concept of love stuck with him the most. Technically, his mind already knew that ‘to love’ meant ‘to like something a lot’. It was the concept of like, but doubled. Or tripled. However, he still didn’t understand what it _meant_ ; what was the use for love?

“What is love?” He had asked Toola the very first time in Khrumbul-Dun. Big, brown doe eyes had blinked at him from behind too big glasses, but she had brought up a hand to her mouth to muffle her amused titter. Malroth had always liked that funny little sound. He had shrugged then, noting how the setting sun made Toola’s peach-coloured hair glow. “Whatever, if you find some, you’ll share it with me, right?”

He still doesn’t understand why Magrog had laughed then, punching his shoulder lightly with a wink as he commented; “Malroth, ye sly dog!”

He quickly scurried away however, when Malroth had shot him an annoyed glare. But it never left him; what was love?

* * *

“Is it bad that I don’t know?” Malroth asked and glared at a mad-mole, silently daring it to try some funny business. The monster froze, squeaked and scurried off, obviously not in the mood to be brutally smashed into oblivion. Toola, who had been digging for more iron, only hummed in question, the sound echoing in the little hole she had made for herself. Malroth sighed, marching up to the opening to peer inside. “Y’know, the whole love stuff.”

Despite the darkness in the hole, he could see the builder’s silhouette perfectly. She turned to him, her glasses reflecting the dim lantern light from the outside like two particularly big bug eyes. Malroth watched her shake her head.

“Not bad,” she said gently and proceeded to obliterate a vein of iron. Her new sledgehammer sure was a delight. But Malroth wasn’t satisfied with the answer.

“Well, everyone else seems to know it but me,” he prodded further and crossed his arms in a near petulant manner. “And everyone gets so damn weird when I ask them, like I’m stupid or something.”

Toola smashed another vein. “Not stupid,” she huffed over the mighty crunch of rocks, before lifting the hammer again. Her companion rolled with his eyes and his hand shot out to wrap around the neck of the tool, tugging at it. The builder made a noise of surprise, stumbling back and ending up leaning against Malroth’s chest. She peeked up at his face as he raised an eyebrow. With a sigh, she let go and instead went on to pick up the clumps of iron she had freed.

“Not bad, not stupid,” she repeated evenly, as she gathered the material in the skirt of her training togs before standing up to face her friend. She smiled. “Just different.”

“How,” Malroth deadpanned, shouldering the sledgehammer as he stepped to the side to let Toola exit the hole. “Everyone keeps going on and on about it like its the best thing that happened to them, right after your inventions–” Toola’s cheeks pinked a little at that – “so how come I’ve never heard of it before?”

The builder crouched to deposit the ore into her bag. “You know Love,” she told him absentmindedly and buckled the bag close. Malroth opened his mouth again, only to shut it when Toola’s hand came up to cover his lips with gentle fingers. She was still smiling, dark eyes glittering. “Everyone loves.”

Her companion blinked, “Everyone?”

“And you,” Toola said, retracting her hand to adjust the straps of her bag. She rolled up to the balls of her feet, doing that cheery little bounce that was so typical of her. “A feeling you had before maybe, but now it has a name.”

She patted his chest, as if to say that he shouldn’t worry, and turned around to head towards the exit of the mines. Malroth watched her go, head tilting to the side slightly in thought. Admittedly, he did feel a little better knowing a new label to attach to things he didn’t really grasp yet. Named concepts somehow felt more, well, _tangible_ to him. Like they actually exist. He knew it was a weird way of looking at things, but he couldn’t help it. Ever since he woke up on the Isle of Awakening, his mind had been filled with concepts and knowledge about the world around him. Yet, they all seemed clinical, objective – it always surprised him when Toola taught him the social aspect of certain concepts.

Love, seemed to be one of them.

He followed the builder, still holding on to her hammer – its heavy weight equal to his brand new iron axe, but Malroth barely felt it. 

“So, what about you?” he asked as he caught up with her. She glanced at him, tilting her head in confusion. “Do you love something?”

Toola blinked and then, her face brightened as she nodded cheerfully with that dopey little grin of hers. “Love building,” she said and Malroth scoffed.

“Duh,” he grinned cheekily as she tried to smack his arm. “Watch it, Missy, or you can lug that hammer of yours back on your own.”

“ _Boo_ ,” Toola stuck her tongue out, before yanking her head back when her friend tried to pinch it between his fingers. She tittered at their little game they had started way back in Furrowfield. There was a joyful skip in her step. “Love my friends,” she continued, hip jutting out so she could bump Malroth, who didn’t even sway. “You too!”

Her companion furrowed his thick eyebrows. “That’s a lot of people,” he noted, “you can love that many?”

“And more,” Toola supplied wisely. They reached the entrance of the mine, the evening sky greeting them with soft hues of orange and lavender. The evening bell rang and the miners filtered out of the depths, as the builder stopped and turned to face Malroth. Her smile was soft. “Lots of different kinds of love. Many ways too. The choice is yours.”

The man’s face scrunched up as he tilted his head. “That’s so broad, though,” he complained. Toola only giggled. What a funny little sound.

* * *

Malroth thought he was getting hang of this whole love thing. It was another evening at the Copper Bar; the atmosphere was rowdy as always, raucous laughter filling the room and somewhere, he could hear Serge shrieking something about someone spilling digger’s jigger on his favourite blouse. Malroth sat back in his seat, lazily lifting his hand to chuck a dart at the board nearby. Bullseye.

“Nice one,” a honeyed voice commented and he was offered a fresh digger’s jigger in a copper mug on a wooden tablet. He looked up to see Babs, dressed in her red cottontail costume and dark hair combed in a way, that framed her face nicely ( _according to Toola, that is_ ). She grinned at him. “You look like yer having a great time!”

He grunted, taking the drink and downing a huge gulp of it. Babs took the liberty to plant herself onto the armrest of the couch, taking the last dart from Malroth and throwing it herself. It hit close to the centre.

“I win,” Malroth muttered and the dancer rolled her eyes.

“Where’s yer other ‘alf? Usually Girly an’ you are attached to the ‘ip,” Babs asked, crossing her fishnet stocking clad legs. “She finally ‘ad enough of you chasing after ‘er like a lovesick pup?” she teased, poking his cheek. Her hand was swatted away.

“She’s busy with the silver bar,” Malroth groused, bottom lip unconsciously jutting out in a mild pout. “And I’m not sick!”

The dancer hummed, looking smug. “Of course ya’ ain’t,” she singsonged and the warrior halfheartedly bared his teeth at her.

“Toola never told me love could make you sick,” he growled, before glancing over to the jolly miners, half of them already drunk as they slurred out a ( _highly inappropriate_ ) song. “Stupid, yeah – but not sick.”

Babs laughed a little, “You’d be surprised what love can do. It can even change people, fer better or fer worse.” She shot him a knowing look, that Malroth couldn’t decipher. “Usually fer the better, tho,”

“Sounds like a nuisance, I you ask me,” the man said, taking another sip of his drink as Babs scoffed. He turned back to her. “Toola also said that everybody loves – so, what about you?”

“O’ course I do,” she sniffed proudly, it vaguely reminded him of Lulu. “I love me town, me friends an’ most of all me good ol’ Pa.” At that, she lifted her clear blue eyes towards her father, who was dutifully serving drinks up at the bar. Malroth watched how her usually piercing gaze turned soft, the buttery lights of the bar painting warm hues onto her pretty face. Toola had always mentioned that Babs was very beautiful. “Pa ‘ad lost most of ‘is ‘ope, when the Children of ‘argon came along. Ripped our bar apart and ransacked our town. Then me Ma died, and ‘e was left with me, only a babe then. Despite the dwindling ‘appiness, ‘e never wavered as me Pa an’ gave everything ‘e could so I was always well cared fer.”

Malroth lowered his drink as she spoke. “That…sounds like a lot. How did he even manage?”

When Babs turned to smile at him, it was without her trademark teasing smugness. “‘Cause it’s wot family does. It’s wot love does. If everythin’ else fails, it’s wot keeps ya’ going. Love is a very powerful thing, Spikey,” she explained, eyes shining in the dim lights. “Pa always said, that bein’ loved gives ya’ strength, while lovin’ someone gives ya courage.”

“Does it really?” It was a genuine question – Malroth never imagined that one feeling could summon such strength. But somehow, with the way Babs had looked at her father and having witnessed her in battle, it seemed entirely plausible. The dancer tittered, a familiar sound, but it was different from the way Toola did it. How strange.

“Don’t think too ‘ard about it, Big Guy,” she told him good-naturedly, getting back up onto her heels as she patted his shoulder. “You’ll get the ‘ang of it eventually, just wait an’ see!”

She left him with that, gracefully click-clacking away on her red pumps, back towards the bar to continue serving drinks. Malroth watched her go and then turned his gaze onto his drink, lost in his thought as he tilted the red liquid to and fro, letting it reflect the light.

Toola did mention there are many ways of love – was Babs’ love one of those ways? He sighed, part annoyed, part tired as lifted the mug to his lips. And here he thought he might have gotten the hang of it. Nevermind, then.

“Oi, Malroff!”

He hadn’t even noticed Dougie and Digby approaching him, until they were right next to his face. He choked on his drink in surprise.

“What the hell?!”

“Darn right ye are!” Dougie groused, obviously tipsy as he unsteadily pointed an accusing finger at Malroth. “Wot in the seven ‘ells was that!”

“What?”

“Babs!” Digby exclaimed, apparently just as tipsy with how Malroth could smell the whiff of alcohol in his breath. “Saw ye gettin’ all cozy wif ‘er!”

The warrior groaned, “Not this again; leave me out of your stupid pissing contest.” They ignored him.

“Yer our rival now, ain’t nobody get Babs’ ‘and before me!”

“In yer bleedin’ dreams, Digby!”

“Why, ye–!”

“Would you two shut it? I already said it a million times; I don’t want anything with Babs,” Malroth growled audibly into the ensuing squabble. “If you wanna go absolutely stupid over her, be my guest, but stop bothering me about it!”

Dougie hiccuped slightly, but nodded seriously. “Right on, Malroff, we are way ahead of ye anyway.”

“What?” Malroth raised both eyebrows. “I thought Toola was. Didn’t she spend the night at Babs’ yesterday?”

Half an hour later, he still had no idea how to explain to an arriving Toola how he made both Dougie and Digby cry.

* * *

For whatever euphoria love brought, apparently, the opposite of it was just as intense – heartbreak, was what Magrog called it. Silently, Malroth found it a little silly; hearts couldn’t break. Well, physically that’d be impossible. A heart wasn’t made of glass. And yet, some said it was and it was all very confusing to him. However, with how his own heart twinged slightly at the sight of Babs’ frozen form, he might just believe them.

The previous cheer from the opening of the silver bar had completely vanished and then some. People were sobbing, some falling to the ground and slumping into themselves in defeat. All the smiles and happiness, gone in a flash thanks to Madusa’s unwelcome intervention. It was both infuriating and bizarre, Malroth hardly recognised the town anymore with its hard-boiled yet jolly atmosphere gone. He approached the centre of the plaza, where Goldirox stood over Babs’ statue and despite his face being devoid of any features, he looked absolutely grief-stricken. But so far, Malroth was sure no-one’s grief could compare to what old Den was feeling. The man stood next to his beloved daughter, his trembling hand gently caressing her pretty face – frozen in the moment of joy she felt as she had danced, just like her mother once did.

“Och, me sweet…” Den mumbled, voice thick with emotion as tears freely fell from his eyes. Malroth had noticed they were the same shade of blue as Babs’. “We’ve really done it now, eh? They went so far an’ took our darling star away…”

A sob escaped his lips and a nearby Ordelia gently laid a comforting hand onto his shoulder. Toola stood to the other side of Babs, her back towards Malroth when he arrived. He couldn’t make out her expression, except for her hand resting on Babs’ arm, just staring at her frozen face. He didn’t like it – Babs’ wasn’t supposed to look like that, all stony. Her mouth was supposed to slant to side in a loopy grin, her eyes should be twinkling with a teasing glint, so seeing her so still was unnerving to Malroth.

(“ _I love me town, me friends an’ most of all me good ol’ Pa._ ”)

His hands curled into fists and he watched how Toola wiped her face.

(“ _Don’t think too ‘ard about it, Big Guy,_ ”)

She turned around, eyes still wet but hardened steel glinted within the warm brown. The last time he saw that look, was back at Furrowfield when the Brainy Badboon– when Pastor Al– Malroth felt his heart leap a little at the unfamiliar glare on the builder’s face. This was going to be messy. This was going to be _good_.

“We’re killing her, yeah?” he asked her.

Toola’s jaw set. “We’re killing Madusa.”

Malroth could barely contain his wolfish grin.

They were quick to rally everyone up for a plan – a third bar, made of gold and most outrageously extravagant, that Madusa won’t even think about ignoring it. The miners cheered, it almost sounded like war cries. Hardly anyone took a break during the next few days, when they built the gold bar. Toola herself had been pouring over her book, Malroth hovering close by, until she ran off to Goldirox to show him the blueprints of the Golden Gauntlets, their ace against Madusa – he couldn’t wait to see them in action. But for that, they both had to venture deep below the town, following the tune of the echo flute over pools of lava to find the diamonds. They had just defeated the Children of Hargon within the temple of the lava lake and Toola was hard at work breaking up the diamond veins, when Malroth opened his mouth.

“This is a lot of effort for one single person,”

Toola didn’t even pause and smashed another vein. “Love can make people go great lengths,”

“Love again?” the warrior was starting to get pretty sick of that topic, despite his undying curiosity about it. So many ways of love, unlimited, limited, gentle and soft, dangerous and sick, close, distant, open, secretive – love seemed so complicated and yet not at all. It was… _frustrating_. There was never a clear answer and everyone had something else to say about it. Why couldn’t it be just concrete? Or at least summarised? “Love is really starting to get on my damn nerves.”

Over the thunderous hammering, he could hear Toola’s huff of amusement. The first lighthearted sound in days after Babs had been cursed. Something like relief washed through Malroth and Toola held up a diamond. It glittered in the heated glow of the lava, reflecting off of her glasses as she spoke; “Babs loves them. Loves the town. It kept her hopes alive.” When she looked at him, her eyes glimmered with burning orange hues from the light. “In turn, they love her, for loving them.”

They loved Babs, because she was always the last one standing. They loved Babs, because even when they all had given up, she kept pushing forward and never hesitated to extend a hand to take them with her.

Was this…love?

Malroth took the diamond when Toola dropped it into his hand. “I think,” he started, his gaze meeting hers. “I think I get it.”

He noted silently, how Toola’s smile made her eyes crinkle into glittering half-moons – he liked it. She hadn’t smiled in a while after all.

* * *

They defeated Madusa.

And as Malroth gazed up towards Toola, standing high on Goldirox’s shoulder with her sword drawn, he briefly wondered if she could build herself a throne made out of gold. It would fit her.

* * *

Malroth had no idea how Toola managed to fashion this pure Golden Glow in her hands just from a single Heartstone and a few ingots. However, he wasn’t about to question it; instead, like many others, he eagerly awaited what would happen next, since Goldirox had been so adamant about it. The victory over Madusa still ran hot in his veins as he stood next to the builder, who held the glow up to the golem with a brilliant, hopeful smile. Until Goldirox recounted the effects that the glow would have, once he would consume it. Toola’s smile fell, along with many of the others, and she immediately retracted the glow, much to Malroth’s surprise.

“No,” she said, thick brows furrowed behind her glasses. Then, she shook her head. “No.”

The golem towering over her wilted slightly, as if in a sigh. “TOOLA…”

“No! I promised! _You_ promised!” She held the glow close to her chest as she yelled. Gentle murmurs broke out within the crowd around them and Malroth felt conflicted. Toola wasn’t someone who got loud often, unless. Unless bad things happened. His hand twitched and he raised it slightly, as if to catch her by the shoulder.

“AM SORRY. ME PROMISE TOOLA. BUT CANNOT KEEP PROMISE,” Goldirox’s gravelly voice was soft despite the volume. The young woman scrunched up her nose, the way Malroth knew she always did when she was upset about something, and glared at her feet with watery eyes. Goldirox moved then, slowly crouching down in front of her, leaning his massive head down so he was nearly eye to eye with the builder. It looked positively silly, if it wasn’t for the tense atmosphere. “TOOLA. ME KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. ME OKAY WITH THAT.”

Malroth could see Toola’s bottom lip tremble as she wiped at her eyes, pushing her glasses up. “Don’t– Don’t do this to Babs…”

“BABS WILL KNOW. BABS WILL UNDERSTAND. WILL TOOLA UNDERSTAND?” The gentle question was met with big, sad doe eyes. The golem tilted his head slightly, lifting one of his open palms. “WILL TOOLA HELP? JUST ONE LAST TIME?”

Malroth already knew her answer; of course she would. In all this time he’d known her, her heart had always been soft and kind. _Loving_ , something whispered in his mind, as he watched how his friend turned her head to gaze sadly at Babs’ frozen form and then back toward Goldirox. Her shoulders sagged and she gently deposited the glow into his waiting palm. His golden fingers curled close around it, his shining eyes bright. For some odd reason, Malroth knew that the golem was smiling.

“THANK YOU. FOR EVERYTHING.”

What followed after were tears – sorrow and joy, joined hand in hand at Goldirox’s sacrifice and Babs’ freedom, as Khrumbul-Dun awakened to life once more. Babs seemed downright confused, limbs curiously heavy, but she accepted the big hug from Toola anyway. She patted the builder’s back as her father joined in, placing a tearful kiss to her temple and the dancer glanced over to Malroth in question. He only gave her a loopy grin, shrugging easily and turning his gaze back to the celebrating people, who were cheering, despite the tears streaming down their faces. He wondered; was this love?

* * *

Naturally, their victory and Khrumbul-Dun’s new Golden Age didn’t go without the necessary celebrations; all three bars were up and running and life lit up in the people, as bright as the fire within the lightboxes and the stars above them. They cheered and sung, dedicating each toast to the new future to come and Goldirox – his monument shining the brightest despite all the silver and gold, the two laid out under his watchful gaze. Most of all, Babs stood in the centre of attention like the shining star she was, pristine white vest and red heels, her tangerine coloured hair bouncing with her movements, as she danced with a bright, bright smile on her face.

Malroth remembered how she had taken Toola aside, way before the celebration. Curiously enough, everyone had given them space, meandering away from their spot near the builder’s bell with knowing looks in their eyes. While he didn’t really want to eavesdrop, Malroth had tuned his sharp hearing anyway, just enough to hear Babs’ quiet sobbing when she had hugged Toola, burying her face into her shoulder. He had looked away after that.

Now, he grinned sharply, before slamming down Magrog’s hand onto the table. Their audience erupted in a chorus of cheers and groans at his continued victory streak in armwrestling.

“Bleedin’ ‘ell, Malroff!” Dougie exclaimed next to him, shoving a full flagon of Digger’s Jigger into his awaiting hand. “At this rate yer gonna raze thru’ the whole crew!”

The warrior let go of a rough laugh. “You say that like I didn’t already!”

There was another round of raucous laughter and Magrog went so far to wrestle him into a playful headlock, digging his knuckles into his scalp. Malroth easily shook him off, only to get himself roped into another scuffle with Digby, exchanging blows and heckling each other. It made his blood sing as he duelled each and everyone who dared, emerging victorious at every turn.

After what felt like a dozen of fights, he finally let himself fall onto one of the couches. He winced immediately, when he felt the leather slide against his sweaty back – he was glad he had taken off his purple jacket beforehand when it got too warm.

“Finally ‘ad enough, ‘otshot?” He only answered with a mild chuckle as Babs gave him a new drink. She grinned down at him. “Better not be messin’ too much with me dear boys, ya hear?”

“Or what, you’re next?”

“Ya saw me with a sword, eh?” Babs challenged right back, cocking a hip to the side with a raised eyebrow. “Now think very carefully wot ya say next, pretty boy,”

Malroth only stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed. It was good seeing her moving again with her loopy grins and sharp twinkling eyes. She sighed a little, face softening into something more wistful as she gazed up towards Goldirox’s monument.

“Ya think she’s okay?” she asked quietly and Malroth followed her gaze. A longe figure sat near the monument; he could already guess who it was. He set his drink down onto the table in front of him and rose from his seat, already reaching for his jacket to drape it over his shoulder. As he walked off, Babs stopped him. “Tell ‘er it’s not ‘er fault–”

“She knows that,” Malroth responded before she could finish. “She’s just making it harder for herself, like the dummy she is.”

He rounded the bar, scouting for the best place to start climbing. Once he did, he relished how the cooled air of the night felt like heaven on his overly warm skin. With his deft skills, he was up there in no time, huffing a little when he spotted Toola.

She sat close to the edge, curled into herself with her chin resting on her knees, hugging her legs. Next to her, sat a lonely Digger’s Jigger, not even halfway empty. Malroth approached her with measured steps and he noticed she was still wearing that bunny costume she had sewn ages ago. Babs had been so delighted when Toola had shown her and both had planned to debut it at the opening of the silver bar, but of course, that never happened. So when the celebrations started, Babs had immediately ushered Toola into her room to get her changed – “As good a time as any!” the warrior had heard the dancer say, before she had slammed the door shut behind her with a mischievous giggle. And despite her slightly downtrodden mood, Toola did seem to brighten when she paraded around the bar in her new look, red bow and choker and boots and all. For the life of her, Babs couldn’t convince her to wear the matching heels.

Toola didn’t say anything when Malroth came to a halt next to her. Then, he pulled his jacket from his shoulder and let it flutter down onto the builder’s head – she seemed to take notice then. Big doe eyes watched how he sat down next to her, grabbing her drink for himself. His legs dangled over the edge, one softly swinging to and fro.

“You know it was this own choice,” he said after he took a gulp of her drink. “There is literally no need for you to be so moody.”

From the corner of his eyes, he observed how Toola scrunched up her nose, pulling his jacket over her shoulders and hair like a hood and muttered into her knees; “I know.”

“Then why?” His red eyes were serious, zeroed in on the builder, who shrank slightly under the intense stare. She chewed on her bottom lip. “You said there was a promise. Are you mad about that?”

“Not mad,” Toola said quietly. “Just– sad.”

Malroth waited. There was a watery sheen already glimmering in her brown eyes.

“He– he’s a friend. We’re friends. Just like–” she broke off, curling into herself further. A soft wind passed them, playing with their hair. “I promised; no more Pastor Als.”

Something within Malroth twinged, like a small pinch.

Toola continued; “Friends don’t let friends die.”

“You didn’t let him die,” her friend sighed, “he and Pastor Al both knew what would follow after they’ve done their choices.” And he knew, that Toola knew. But…it was hard, he supposed. “Don’t feel bad for things that were beyond your control.”

And a lightbulb went off in his head.

It was hard because Toola _loved_ her friends. Loved them in all forms, loved them through adventure and tears, loved them to the desire to preserve their happiness. Because that’s what love does. That’s what Toola’s love does. And when she looked at him with teary eyes and a wobbly little smile, love, for once, seemed to make sense.

“I know,” she whispered, voice thick. “I just miss my friends.”

Because she loved them, and then lost them. Because only lovely memories remained, together with the lingering happiness they had left behind.

Malroth stared at her feeble smile, enlightened by his private revelation. “…Love hurts a lot,” he then said dumbly. The small, wet laugh he got was worth it though.

“Yes, love hurts,” Toola explained, ever patient as she closed her eyes and let her tears escape. She leaned against him, a comforting and warm weight. “Heals too. It lingers, big or small. Comes and goes. But the memory stays. And makes it great.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Malroth said bluntly and could feel Toola shaking in amusement. “But, maybe it doesn’t have to.”

She patted his leg as if to say he shouldn’t worry about it. He snorted at the gesture and bumped her with his arm, making her giggle. What a funny sound, he thought once more, watching her peach coloured hair glow underneath the pale moonlight. The buttery lights from the bar beneath them warmed her brown skin and made her brown eyes glitter. Her smile was full of pearly whites, slightly crooked but happy, crinkling the corners of her doe eyes and turning them into pretty half-moons behind her too big glasses.

And a tiny, tiny voice whispered in Malroth’s mind, soon to be forgotten when Toola made grabby hands from the drink in his hands.

_Maybe, this is love._

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated once more to the mildly cursed discord server!!
> 
> one might still make an attempt on my life for my previous angst crimes, but Battle Bunny made a brief cameo so
> 
> maybe i can put off my execution by an extremely angery peanut for now


End file.
